The Daughter of Black
by quirky-but-kewl90
Summary: Sirius Black has the perfect life, that is until he discovers the existance of a mysterious daughter and its course takes a plummeting twist....while, years later and her memory erased,his daughter meets a stranger by the name of Harry Potter...


**Hello, my dear fan-ficcers! This story has been brewing in my head for a while so you know its going to be good. ahahahahha. Please review or i will send minions after you.**

**DISLCAIMER: I donot own harry potter. alas that is the unfortunate truth.**

_Chapter 1:_

Today was a brilliant day for Sirius Black.

He had been fired from his third job that month, had another interview tomorrow, had just purchased a new black, double-breasted surcoat, which he was currently modelling (much to the satisfaction of passing female Muggles), was on his way to a pub to talk his best friend into a weighty decision, and, most importantly, there were garbled reports in the Prophet that she was missing. Although garbled, they were nonetheless there. Presumed dead, the report speculated gleefully.

With a bit of luck, it'll be true, thought Sirius indifferently as he paused outside a shady-looking, crowded, smoky, boisterous, moodily-lit bar. Yes, this looks like James' taste. He pulled open the door and, narrowly avoiding treading on an unconscious drunken form, hailed James at he bar.

James plucked up a beer, downed it with alarming skill and slammed the empty glass back down again with a deftness which spoke of fret. His hands jerked unconsciously at loud noises and his hair lay awkwardly from repeated nervous raking. Sirius observed his friend with cool indifference, his brow smooth, slowing tracing the circumference of his glass with the tip of his forefinger in a gesture which shouted his uncaring manner. Best friend counselling could sometimes be tiresome.

"I really don't know, mate." James kept repeating. "I mean, what if I stuff it up? What of it all comes back on me? I...I couldn't take the shame. And my parents..." his voice tailed of meaningfully, his eyes wide with unspoken dialogue.

Sirius snorted, placed his beer down carefully upon the coaster. "Yeah, your parents would be upset. I mean, you'd be risking our..well..your life here. Heavy repercussions. At least on you." His words did not have the balming effect he was hoping for.

"Does my future concern you that little, my flippant furry friend? C'mon. I paid attention to you when you had that moral dilemma with the twins, now, this is a little more serious." Staring soberly at the bartop, he muttered, "If I even go through with it at all."

James was lost in nervous, sweaty silence, the pace of his bouncing knee escalating.

"Alright, now down to the gritty business. What time do we- sorry, you, have to decide on the deadline?" Sirius asked patiently.

James' eyes slid to the bar's clock with the clammy apprehension of a sentenced prisoner. "We've got 3 hours till Dumbledore needs our answer. Ah what I am I to do? More duty which is in need of decisiveness. I am not a decisive person. I spend an inordinate amount of time choosing breakfast cereals."

"Yes, you need to be more decisive. More spontaneous. More-"

"Reckless?" James smirked, his wan face colouring slightly with humour.

"Exactly." agreed Sirius wisely.

It was at this point that their pleasant discussion was halted by the look of utmost horror and disbelief that suddenly skittered over James' face, his eyes fixed directly over Sirius' shoulder. "Oh no." he muttered, a mutter edged with a bite of ominous disbelief. "This is not possible..." despite his tone, his lips quirked slightly at the edges.

Sirius' choked on his beer, slamming it down and spilling it liberally. Fear knotted painfully in his stomach. Concentrating on his breathing, he busied himself mopping up his beer while James chuckled unhelpful.

She slid a bar chair in between them with graceful confidence and settled herself in it, posture erect, small white hands folded demurely upon her lap. Sirius observed this out of the corner of his eye and it was only when she lunged out, grasped his face and pulled it viciously to face her he actually looked at her.

She was magnificent. Her head was shrouded by a cloud of golden, butter-coloured curls. She possessed a dangerous beauty: intoxicating yet subtle, it hung about the rose-pink of her lips and cheeks, or the creamy matt of her virgin skin, or the slender vulnerability of her frame. Yet, as Sirius full knew, she simply saw her splendour as a convinient hereditary weapon: one that she employed skilfully and did not hint at all of what lay beneath her skin. The only outward betrayal of her true persona lay in the steely, piercing cast of her eyes: a hard glint that sliced through you and was exacberated by the sharp angle of her brow. Yet, she was magnificent.

Her slight frame was swathed by a overlarge navy coat, typically wizardish, which blended her with the crowd by cloaking her easily distinguishable hair and shadowing her face, which was puckered in distress. Hunched over in a gesture of jerky desperation, she cradled her hands together beneath the overlong sleeves and said nothing.

There was a moment of frozen silence, in which Sirius fingered the sodden bar napkin and James attempted to smother his chuckles with another beer. He seemed to have forgotten all about his problems. Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed Sirius by the arm, urgency suddenly papilable in her desperate air.

"Sirius, I have sought you out. I have a matter of immeasurable importance which I wish to relate to you." she gushed out hurriedly, like the words were blistering her lips. As she spoke, her sharp eyes cast about for eavesdroppers.

James' head perked up and he tapped her derisively on the shoulder. "You have some nerve to come here seeking his help. "he stated conversationally. "Anyway, were'nt they reporting that you were dead-"

"James, shut up." Sirius muttered. The static pricks of pins and needles were steadily benumbing his hands and feet. He had known she would seek him, demand of him what he could not do. Resuming his seat, he non-chalantly turned to her as a business partner would. It was essential that no-one noticed her presence here. If they did, and they alerted the ministry, he doubted it would take more than 15 minuets for an armed garrison to surround them.

"We cannot talk here." he said in normal tones. Whispering was too obvious. "Even though it is crowded, there still is the slight chance someone might hear us. Go outside and wait in shadow. I will be there shortly."

She rose obediently (though Sirius could tell she bitterly resented being ordered about by someone beneath her rank) and swept towards the pub's front door, her tiny inconspicuous figure soon enveloped by the rowdy atmosphere.

James crossed his arms and legs, and stretched back into his chair leisurely, appraising Sirius with comical mocking. "What in Merlin's name have you done?"

Busy swinging his thick surcoat back on and firmly wrapping a stylish scarf around his throat, Sirius did not immediately answer. "I think it may have something to do with...it"

"You don't mean..."

"Yeah, I do. I stole it from her family, no? She'll be wanting it back, and I don't have it!" He sincerely hoped the bar's terrible lighting would prevent James from seeing the deep red blush that was stealing over his face. Slamming a few Muggle pound notes upon the bar countertype, he turned his back upon the still chuckling James and started striding towards the exit, weaving around drunken customers.

James yelled after him, his voice drowned by the din: "Well, pluck up some manly Black bravado and spit it out to her!"

At the doorway's threshold, Sirius turned and grinned at his naive friend. "If she were Lily would you tell her?"

James raised his glass. "Touche," and after a pause: "You know what, Padfoot? I will do it. I will take up that mission for Albus. I will be reckless! And I will ask Lily to marry me!"

Her back towards the bar's door, she was waiting beneath a glaring street light that drenched them both in bleaching yellow light. Beyond their pool of yellow, darkness cloaked the quiet street.

Sheathing his hands in tailored fur-lined gloves, Sirius warily approached her shadowy form. Indeed, he would have like to have run with inhuman speed in the opposite direction, but he was scared stiff of this woman and therefore was glued to his spot with nervous apprehension. He had seen her fight, knew of her skill with Terramage, the terrible death she could incur for him with a single hand-gesture.

She turned her head as he approached, her lovely face a mask of cold battle-worn rigidity, breath rising in clouds. Although, it was her intelligent, acute eyes which appraised Sirius so harshly and spun his fear into a pitch of panic.

"Sirius," she started slowly, her voice wreathed with sorrowful foreboding. "Do you know why I came to you?"

His bitter laugh was underlaid by shallow echoes which resounded about the dark deserted street. A hysterical anger was bubbling in him now. "That's a excellent question, actually. You are being hunted, not only by both sides of our little war, but by your own side too. Treachery, they say. So, please tell me why exactly you would risk both our lives to find me?"

Sirius immediately wished he could have retracted the words right out of the air the minuet he spat them. His eyes had just found the sheathed sword reposing upon her belt, inscribed with runes of terrible potency for killing and destruction.

Although, her fingers did not hunt for the sword and cleave his head, as the picture in his mind was detailing. At first Sirius thought she was choking and frantically tried to recall the spell for clearing breathing airways, when he realised... She was crying. The most fierce, terrifying woman he knew was crying, small glistening tears reflecting the artificial street light as they raced down her face.

Then she spoke the sentence that changed the course of his life.

"Sirius, I'm pregnant."

**aren't i evil??? go on. review. you know you want to. xoxoxoxoxxo**

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